“They’re hitting the sedan,” I said.
“Stay back,” he replied instantly. “I’m calling dispatch. Record everything.”
The sedan wasn’t just a borrowed favor. It belonged to his company—a training vehicle equipped with cameras, GPS tracking, and registered under a loan agreement. If my parents damaged it, it wouldn’t be brushed aside as family drama.
Police lights flooded the driveway before their anger ran out.
My father froze mid-swing. My mother dropped the hammer. Sabrina stopped laughing instantly.
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